Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“None of us know what to say to that,” I admitted. “But that was why I started to work with Winston. I didn’t like that I was unwittingly an accomplice to his disgusting life. I wanted to make amends, and to do that, I started working with Winston. Him, me, and a few other guys from Autry’s old SEAL team are now working in our spare time. Not all of us can go every time. But we still have enough to make a great team when it’s needed.”
“So that’s where this came from?” She ran her finger over the puckered bullet wound.
“That’s where that came from,” I confirmed.
“Holy cow,” she breathed. “Keene, I don’t even… that’s truly beautiful. The world is lucky to have someone like you who’ll do the hard things.”
My heart swelled.
I’d told her everything now.
I’d told her what a piece of shit my father was—and how he’d hurt Hades and all kinds of other kids over the span of his adult lifetime in the guise of offering families great fun.
I’d told her about my sisters and their hardships—after asking for their permission.
I told her every single important detail that I’d been hiding, until I ended with the explanation of what I did when I disappeared to places unknown but to a select few.
That led us to now, seven o’clock in the morning.
We’d been talking since six when we’d both woken up at some sound outside my apartment.
Funny enough, it’d only taken us halfway through me fucking the absolute hell out of her to realize that it was maintenance outside making sure all the security features that Winston insisted on were working properly.
Even worse, I was fairly sure the man heard her cry out to Jesus Christ again, causing him to knock in worry.
We both ignored it, and eventually he’d gone away.
It was as we were coming down from that high that I explained.
“So that’s me,” I finished.
She sat up, straddling my hips, and said, “That’s beautiful.”
“I can’t say that I ever felt that way about my life but…”
She grinned. “You never told me where your mother was in all of this.”
I curled my lip in disgust.
And, as if the world heard our discussion, that was when the phone at my bed rang.
She sat up with a giggle and a, “I’m gonna shower. Get dressed!”
I pinched her on the ass.
She squeaked and pulled away, laughing.
I watched her get up and head to the bathroom to clean up—though she didn’t have much to clean up because we managed to get a condom on before we’d gotten too hot and heavy.
Then she closed the door, leaving me to my phone call.
Since I was used to getting odd calls for the circus and what not, I answered it without thinking.
It was a Florida area code.
“Mr. Singh?” the woman said.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that there was no one here by that name. But I didn’t.
And regretted it instantly.
“Day,” I corrected her.
“Day?” she asked in confusion.
“I don’t go by Singh anymore,” I grumbled. “What do you need?”
“This is Ruth Cordeir with Elder Health and Services.”
My brows rose. “Okay.”
“I am the senior…” She started giving me her titles as well as any and all details pertaining to her job. Then finished with, “And I’m the head of your mother’s case.”
My mother’s case?
“What?” I asked.
“Your mother. Desiree Carobold. We are calling to inform you that you are being charged with elder neglect,” she announced.
Anger ignited in my blood.
“Elder neglect?” I asked the social worker, unsure whether or not I was hearing her correctly or not. “I haven’t spoken to my mother in well over twenty years. I have absolutely nothing to do with her.”
“She’s still your mother,” the woman over the phone replied.
“She isn’t anything to me,” I said. “My ‘mother’ left me with a pedophile who literally beat the shit out of me every three days. She is not my mother.”
There was silence over the line then, “She likely didn’t understand that she was leaving you with that fate.”
I laughed. The laugh was harsh and humorless.
“My mother knew exactly what she was doing,” I corrected her. “She was sure to come by every six months or so and ask for money from my dad. My dad gave it to her, then told me that I wouldn’t get paid for any of the hard manual labor I did weekly every time she came around asking for a handout. Because he ‘gave it to her to keep her happy.’ So yes, my mother knew exactly what happened every time she showed up, stealing from me. She also saw me in various shades of fucked up. So, when you say that you’re charging me with elder abuse, I’d like you to know that I haven’t seen, spoken, or wanted to speak to her in twenty fucking years. She has been dead to me since the last time I told her to leave and not come back. If you’re curious, I also have an updated restraining order against her. I get it redone every year when it runs out, because she likes to stalk me when I don’t give her what she wants.”